Flawed Design
by whiskey-lullaby
Summary: Eventual Bellatrix/Hermione. Post OOTP. Both women need salvation, and they find it in eachother. This will be drawn out. Read if you are interested : . rating likely to change.
1. In Her Music Box

_**Chapter One: In Her Music Box.**_

Hermione Granger drew her knees up to her chest. Sitting in the back of her parents car, she eagerly awaited to arrive at Grand Central Station. How she craved the security of her warm bed in the Gryffindor Dormitory, she needed the safety, the warmth, the utter atmosphere that let her know it was all going to be alright. Her mother had the radio turned all the way up, and Hermione tried to focus on the music rather than her father's hands gripping the wheel, she _hated_ those hands, and the distant, hazy look in her mothers eyes.

She focused on the guitar riff, the heavy bass, the soft singing……

"Hermione." She jumped, her fathers commanding voice snapping her out of her trance.

"Yes?" She answers meekly.

"We're here, darling."

"Oh, oh, of course!" she exclaimed nervously, clambering at the door handle. Her father grins, climbs out of the drivers seat, walks around and lets her out. Hermione hurriedly collected her things, wanting more than anything to disappear into the crowd at the train station.

Her mother got out of the car. "Hermione, dear." She said emptily, holding out her arms. She hugged her mother, and kissed her on the cheek. _She's so thin _the teen thought despairingly, her mothers ribs sharply poking her in the stomach. She pulled out of the embrace and made way to leave.

"Sweetheart," her fathers voice assaulted her ears. She turned around, staring at him, hating the huge, jovial grin plastered across his face. "Where's my hug?" He placed a strong hand on her shoulder, and pulled her against his chest. Hermione shakily hugged him back. She wanted to vomit.

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Bellatrix Lestrange washed the blood from her hands in the stone basin. _Filthy Mudbloods _she thought, grinning, reminiscing over the torturous deaths she'd put those disgusting, good-for-nothing creatures through.

"Bellatrix, come to bed. The Dark Lord wishes to congregate with us in the morning." Rodolphus said.

"Oh, shut your mouth. You didn't even appreciate my work tonight, but surely _he _will reward me. I'll come to bed when I please." She snapped, shivering in anticipation of what was to come the next day. She loved _his _power, _his _hissing voice, and when _he _made her writhe in pain, no matter how much, it gave her the greatest joy she had ever known. Hurting others was one of her great pleasures, but being hurt herself was utter ecstasy. She didn't let on to this often, but she hoped for it every day.

She would escape in the sounds of her victims screams, each one intensifying the effect, the power she held over them. Oh, it was a wonderful escape.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Lay down in that music box._

_Escape in the sound of that music box._


	2. Clumsy

_**Chapter Two: Clumsy**_

Hermione folded her hands across her lap. A grin tugged the corners of her mouth as she watched Ron and Harry stuff themselves with chocolate frogs. Harry was underweight as usual, and Ron looked downtrodden at the looming prospect of school. Hermione couldn't help but feel extremely relieved, she _hated _the summers, and reveled in the fact that she wouldn't have to return home for nine months. Harry was perhaps the only one who understood that, she'd noticed he thought of Hogwarts as his primary home also.

"So Hermione," Ron said, his face smeared with chocolate, "I trust your summer was exciting? Books? Studying? Extra essays?" She flashed him a smile and slapped him lightly on the knee.

"You have no idea." She bit her lower lip, unsure of where to go from there. The first of the year was always the hardest for her, she had a hard time adjusting to the kindness of others, and found it hard to speak with anyone, even her two best friends.

There was a knock on the train compartment. Ron slid the door open, coming face to face with Malfoy. "What do _you _want, you prat?" Ron hissed, his fist balling up at his side. Hermione turned to fix Draco with a glare, but stopped short. He looked absolutely dreadful. He'd lost a significant amount of weight, his face was sunken in, and black circles shadowed his eyes.

"Sorry, _Weasel,"_ Draco drawled, "wrong compartment." Then he walked away, avoiding eye contact with all three of them.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, the same thought running through their heads. What had happened to him? Bully and school nemesis he may be, but he didn't look well, he didn't look healthy.

Ron looked smug. "Scared him off good, didn't I?" Hermione rolled her eyes. He could be such an idiot.

Hours later, as the countryside rushing past the large window was bathed in an eerie darkness, Hermione Granger fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Harry was awake and noticed her weak appearance for the first time. Her face was gaunt, her form smaller than he remembered it. There was something not quite right about her however, her skin had absolutely no flaws, none, not even the tiniest of blemishes.

A sudden thought popped into his head.

As the train came to its final stop, the trio began gathering their things from the overhead compartments and changing into their robes. After Ron had left to change, Harry seized the opportunity to voice his concern in privacy.

"Hermione," he said seriously to the disheveled looking girl, and she jumped at the sound of her name.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Why have you cast a glamour charm upon yourself?" He queried, figuring it was best to just to get to the point.

Hermione panicked. At first she considered denying it, but Harry would know she was being dishonest. She had to come up with something, fast. As worried as she was, her face never betrayed her inner turmoil.

"I'm rather embarrassed," she laughed nervously, and looked away from him, "I used it to make myself look…better than the other girls. I know it's stupid, but…I'm getting older…and well…"

Harry nodded his head, "Oh, alright."

Hermione winced. He didn't believe her, she could tell, but her superficial reason was better revealed than her primary motivation to hide her imperfections, because she had so, _so many. _

"Hermione?" Harry touched her arm, and she jumped back as if she'd been burned. She stumbled over her trunk.

"Are you alright?" He asked, trying to help her get to her feet. She wouldn't let him touch her.

"Fine, Oh Harry, I _do _apologize, how clumsy of me." She scurried about, grabbing her trunk and Crookshanks, and ran out of the train compartment, leaving a very confused friend behind her.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Bellatrix stared in to the deep red slits that were her Lords eyes. "Bella, you've done well, purifying this world more each and every day you complete a mission for me. I do not do this often. But I will reward you today with your greatest desire. What is it, child? Let me into your mind…"

Bellatrix felt him in her mind, sifting through recent memories, and trying to find the core of her desire, what she was yearning for so urgently. _I want you to hurt me, I want you to tear me apart, I want you to do both….I want to scream…._

He pulled out of her mind, an amused smile on his face. "Interesting. _Very _interesting." He smiled at the rest of the Death Eater congregation. "Leave us. I will call upon you all at the next meeting."

Rodolphus paused for a moment. He knew his wife had pretty much lost her marbles, but as true as that was, he was determined to protect her. He had never liked the unhealthy obsession she'd had for the Dark Lord, it went a little far for a husbands liking. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he walked away, leaving Bellatrix nothing but a concerned second glance.

Bellatrix, however, was deep in her sickness, and was shivering in anticipation at what her Lord would give her.

"Bella," he whispered, and beckoned her to him with a long, bony finger.

She approached him, hands shaking, body on fire. He smiled a snake-like smile, and gently caressed her cheek with his hand. Though she wished he was a bit rough, any touch from him was like heaven.

"_Rough?_" He said playfully, instantly reading her thoughts. He drew his hand back, and slapped her so hard she fell to the floor. She moaned in pleasure.

"_Crucio" _He said flippantly, and she writhed on the floor, screaming, screaming for him, just like she wanted to.

He ended the curse and studied her. She was glowing. "_More, please._ _Morrre…" _She begged. He stood above her heaving form, and delivered a sharp kick to the stomach.

She felt the bruise forming, felt the blood rush. She loved it. Voldemort reached down, and wrapped his hand around the womans throat. He lifted her off the ground, he knew through all the choking and sputtering she made it was pleasing her. He had no idea how much, however.

Voldemort released her throat, and let her drop unceremoniously to the floor. "And _now," _he said, "that I've given you what you want, you must give me something I want. You know how to hold still."

Bellatrix didn't particularly like this part, from Lord Voldemort or from any man for that matter. She lay face down on the stone floor as he positioned himself from behind her. He removed her dress and undergarments, spread her wide, and got what he wanted.

When it was over, she always ended up in a closed off state of mind. He always made her feel so cold inside. Once Bella felt free of his weight, she sat up.

"Oh and Bella?" He said gently, "You were such a good girl. Here's your reward." He punched her so hard in the face she thought she heard her own bones crack. Her eyes rolled back in her head from pleasure.

She scrambled to her feet, kissed his robes, and disappeared into the night.

Bellatrix apparated outside the cottage she shared with Rodolphus. Halfway to the door, she felt the consequences of the beating she had asked for catch up with her. She dropped to her knees and retched, enjoying the way the acid bile burned her throat and tongue. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. Slowly she regained her balance, and meandered towards the door.

Her husband was waiting in the living room for her. He jumped up immediately when he took sight of her swelled face, and the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. He knew she liked pain, but he never liked to see her in it.

"Bellatrix, what happened to you?" It was a stupid, empty question that they both knew the answer to wholeheartedly.

"I fell. How clumsy of me." She tried to placate him.

"Do you need anything? Food? Potions? Do y-" He offered hurriedly, nothing calmed his anxiety more.

"Shut your mouth, you disgusting filth" she silenced him, his concern evoking a deep panic within her, "you know I need nothing from the likes of _you_."

He bowed his head.

She stormed past him, hating him for being there, and _loathing_ him for caring.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_As clumsy as you've been,_

_There's no one laughing._

_You will be safe in here._


	3. Lose You

**A/N: I tried to capture Hermione's confusion about her sexuality in an accurate way. Tips would be appreciated. Thanks for reading =]. **

**Chapter Three: Lose You**

Hermione awoke with a start. Breathing hard, she clutched the comforter tightly, pulling it up around her chin. Her forehead was plastered with sweat, her bangs soaking and sticking to her face. She couldn't for the life of her remember the dream, but she recognized the unclean feeling that pulsated throughout her body. She took a few deep breaths: _in through your nose, out through your mouth…breathe…calm down…it will be over soon…_

She relaxed quite immediately, pushing down the tugging, uneasy emotion that tried to claw its way to the surface. She closed her eyes, fixating on recent events. The carriage ride up to the castle was quiet, Ron snoring in the corner and Harry casting several worried glances her direction. A sudden anger sparked within her. _How dare he? These are my issues, my business, and he has no right to think or care about what's going on in my life._

Hermione sighed and inwardly scolded herself, knowing how immature her thoughts were. It was the way she felt however, and there was nothing that could change that. She decided she'd have to control herself more, her attitude, her personality, her school work. If who she really was truly came out, yes, she'd be happier, but at the expense of having other people know too much. As far as she was concerned, she was the one that usually knew a great deal, it was all she had, and she wasn't about to let other people share the degree of knowledge she possessed.

The feast went as usual, terrified looking first years being sorted, the teachers looking distressed at the amount of students crowding the Great Hall (_especially _Snape), and the wonderful food that filled the plates in front of them. Hermione couldn't stomach much, but she still considered it a blessing that they were fed so well.

_Blessing….Ha. _She thought sarcastically; _the house elves slaving away for ungrateful wizarding children, bound only by prejudice and intolerant magic._ She didn't think too highly of blessings, either. Her parents were Catholic, and used bible quotes rather…unconventionally.

_Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name……_she could still hear the haunting voice, as an unwelcome hand travelled up her..

"You think too much.." she whispered to herself, trying to forget. She pinched her wrist in a futile attempt to stop her racing mind, and when it didn't work, she violently threw the covers off of herself and jumped out of her bed.

Trying to be halfway considerate to the other girls, she tiptoed towards the bathroom. Luckily for her, the showers were in the very back, and wouldn't disturb the sleep of her classmates. She quickly undressed, throwing her clothes unconventionally to the floor. She stepped into the shower stall, and turned the 'hot' knob. The water burned her skin, but she didn't care. It was cleansing. She scrubbed herself so hard she nearly bled, and when she was finished, her body was covered with red splotches and scratches from her vigorous effort. She was satisfied, and could feel her body succumbing to exhaustion.

Hermione walked quietly back to bed, slipped under the covers, and fell into a peaceful slumber.

The morning came too soon. The sunshine that penetrated the windows was a solace, Hermione had always had a great appreciation for natural beauty, but considering she had only slept for three hours, the brightness of it irritated her barely-open eyes. She changed on her bed with the drapes pulled around.

As she drew the drape back, smoothing her skirt self-consciously, she had a full view of Lavender Browns naked body. Most of the girls in the dormitory were not as shy as she was, and changed right out in the open. She blushed, but didn't tear her eyes away immediately. The girls taut breasts and flawless, ivory skin intrigued her, if only for a moment. She felt a dull throbbing in her lower area, and was embarrassed immediately.

"Hermione," Lavender said flippantly, pulling her shirt over her head, "How were your holidays, love?"

"W-well," Hermione focused on the natural blonde ringlets that framed her face, and the pouty, full, pink lips she addressed her with, "It was quite memorable." She felt so idiotic.

"Wonderful," the girl flashed her a brilliant smile.

"See you at supper" Hermione muttered quickly, left the dormitory, and arrived in the common room, greeted by the familiar faces of Harry and Ron.

"Hermione, you are bright red!" Ron exclaimed.

She felt her face, amazed by how much blood could settle in her cheeks. "I'll get some cold juice down at breakfast." She stated, and started towards the portrait hole. She walked by a stunning fourth year with long, dark brown hair, and intense blue eyes.

Harry and Ron caught up to her as the trio made their way down the stairs. "Did you _see _Angela Ramsey? Someone certainly grew up this summer.." Ron exclaimed to Harry. Realizing it was the girl she had just passed, Hermione's blush returned.

_It's not right….not for me…._She thought, extremely confused. She knew, however, by the way she was feeling, that Angela Ramsey would be _perfect _for her, in a shallow, physical sense.

_No. _She commanded her body. _You might not be as happy with men, but it will work out in the long run…._

She hoped.

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Bellatrix climbed out of bed, her limbs aching from the night before. Her ability to handle pain rejuvenated her in an extraordinary way. Rodolphus snored loudly still, his face contorted into a worried grimace. She shivered in disgust. She couldn't believe she had actually slept with _that. _

Bellatrix went to the bathroom, and undressed slowly, watching herself in the mirror with great pride. Aside from the purple bruise on her stomach, and the slight puffiness of the right side of her face, she looked attractive as ever. Clad in nothing but her undergarments, Bellatrix ran her hands down the sides of her body, loving the way her hips curved. She loved that in other women, too, but it was rare that she got to see another woman.

She could settle for Rodolphus' attempts to seduce her, and the Dark Lords violence. It was enough for the moment. She showered quickly, dressed quickly, and headed down to the kitchen. She clapped her hands, summoning their house-elf, Lily-Jane. Catching sight of the dirty pillow-case the elf was clad in, and the sheer ugliness of the creature, Bellatrix pulled out her wand, "You displease me. _Crucio._"

The house-elf shrieked in agony, writhing around on the floor, tears leaking from the corners of its obnoxiously large eyes. She ended the spell, and told the elf to bring her breakfast. Lily-Jane scurried away, terrified, and came back shortly with a tray full of steaming food.

Bellatrix only ate the half of it, she'd never been able to keep down much of anything. She scowled when she heard Rodolphus' lumbering, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Morning," he said carefully, "I see you've eaten."

"Brilliant observation." she retorted, staring down at the floor.

"I was proud of the work you did for Him," he said, lying through his fucking teeth, "I've never loved you more."

_Can I even love? _She asked herself, amused. He walked up to her, and planted a kiss on her cheek. She hated his gentleness. Trying to take care of her as if she was a child, trying to woo her with words and touches and such. It didn't work. She felt nothing. Well, she usually felt nothing, so it wasn't a huge surprise.

Being abused and abusing were the only thing that evoked any emotion in her. _I wonder if that's a problem.. _she thought. It was a concern to her, if only for a moment, and then it slipped away. She could deal with pain because it was familiar. Trying to find _happiness?_ It sounded so weak and ridiculous, but she felt a lingering want to be content. She almost slapped herself. She couldn't get soft now, not in the middle of a war. She had a responsibility to cleanse the earth, it's what she was born to do. She'd settle for pain. It was almost a comfort. Almost.

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_I don't need a better thing, _

_I'd settle for less._

_It's another thing for me,_

_I just have to wander through this world alone. _

.


	4. ZzZyX Road

**Chapter Four: ZzZyX Road **

Hermione stared at Professor Snape, trying to focus on all the instruction he was giving the class. Over the past few weeks, she had found herself unable to pull herself together enough to fully understand what her teachers were talking about. She was extremely frustrated with herself and tried to understand why, nothing had ever been able to dampen her academia like this.

Her eyes fluttered occasionally, Snape's drone fading as her fatigue took over, and she began to drift off…

"GRANGER!" He slammed his hand down on the desk.

Hermione didn't even jump. Her eyes fluttered open. "_What_?" she spat at her Professor. She studied him, his face was pale, gaunt, and the way he clenched his teeth suggested he was holding back pain. Hermione was well aware of the fact that he still attended death eater meetings (Dumbledore couldn't hide_ everything_) and assumed that there was one held in the recent past.

Snape seemed slightly taken aback by her response, usually she was quite respectful and meek, and now her eyes held a defiance and fury he had never seen before. "Do try to pay attention, it shouldn't be too hard Granger, you usually outdo everyone in that category."

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. He'd tried to scorn her but it ended up being a half-compliment. She sat exactly like that for the remainder of the class, just to spite him, and didn't even try to make the potion.

Ron was taken aback by her attitude at the end of class. "I've never seen you be so stubborn in _class _Hermione!" He exclaimed, slapping her on the back a little too hard.

"Yes, so it seems." Harry agreed, looking her over.

_Shit_ she thought silently. Ron was such an idiot that it wasn't a problem keeping his worry for her at bay, but Harry was an entirely different matter. He'd noticed the change in her, and wasn't letting it go by any means. She'd thought of being absolutely horrible to him, but that wouldn't solve anything, it would just give her a label in school. And that was the last thing she needed, to be _noticed _more. It had taken her so long to build up her persona, she wasn't just going to go throw it all away now.

"Hermione." Harry grabbed her shoulder.

She blushed. He'd been talking this whole time, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Why the hell do you always do that?" He exclaimed, "Ever since sixth year started, you've been staring off at Merlin-knows-what and not responding. When you do talk, its obviously things you don't mean, you're studies have been slipping-"

"Thankyou, _Mum" _she interrupted before she could stop herself, "Maybe I'm having an occurrence I'd like to deal with on my own. It's not all about _you _Harry, we normal folk have problems too!"

"Perhaps I didn't consider that," He answered, suddenly very reserved, "Where did Ron run off to?" He changed the subject quickly. She knew she had struck a chord.

"Probably to snog Lavender. Prat." Hermione said angrily, and stormed away.

Later that evening, Hermione sat across the table from Harry, watching him as he silently sipped his pumpkin juice. He hadn't said much to her since she had yelled at him, but that was kind of the point. She wanted to offend him just enough so he would be angry and back off, but not to the point where he'd stop being her friend. He stared down at the table sullenly. So did she.

The Hall was decorated with brightly lit pumpkins, since it so was close to Halloween, and the food smelled delicious. Hermione couldn't bring herself to eat what was on her plate. _I don't deserve it_ she told herself, it had been so conniving of her, so _dirty _of her to manipulate Harry and his emotions like that. She sat on her hands to keep herself from picking up her silverware.

To her right, Lavender and Ron were whispering sweet-nothings to each other. He was running his hand up her thigh, playing with the hem of her skirt. Hermione loathed him for how lucky he was, to be able to touch her flawless skin, and hear her musical laughter. She'd developed a certain liking towards the girl, but she knew deep in her heart of hearts, that nothing would ever happen.

Hermione sighed, and removed her hands from under her. Picking up her fork, she took a bite of sweet potatoes. _Guess I was hungry_ she thought, and smiled.

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Bellatrix licked her chapped lips, staring at her weak form in the mirror. Her bony hands shook as she reached for the knobs on the faucet, and when she finally got the water running, black spots danced in front of her eyes. She tried, tried so hard to catch herself using the sink, but she just collapsed onto the bathroom floor.

"Mistress! Mistress!" She heard the house-elf 's high-pitched shriek from somewhere above her.

"What in the name of-" she almost said, but grabbed her house-elf by the throat instead.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" She screamed, her vocal chords strained and sore, "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" She marveled in the way Lily-Jane sputtered, and the color in her face slowly changed. When the creature was just on the brink of fading away, she released its throat.

"M-m-mis-stress Bl-bl-ack," she stuttered in between coughs, "yo- you did f-fall, yo-u loo-looked as- as if you was-wasn't goin-ng to wa-ke-. And y-you w-was bleedin, but Lily (referring to herself) ban-daged it up so you didn't l-lose too much."

"I see." Bellatrix felt humble for a moment. The house-elf had saved her life…and she had just tried to kill it.

_So? She's just as filthy and disgusting, she should have saved me. She needs me. She did it for her own selfish reasons. _Her mind scolded her. She felt better after this, more important.

"And why did you not call for my husband?" Bellatrix queried in a dangerously low tone.

The house-elf then did something very strange. Instead of maintaining her usually shaky, pathetic posture, she stood up straight, muscles rigid with self-control.

"I. Did. Call. On. Him. He. Is. Doing. A. Mission. For. The. Dark. Lord." Lily-Jane spun on her heel, and walked away.

Bellatrix thought about calling her back and torturing her into insanity, but after you've done that to a countless amount of people, it gets old. She wondered what she could have possibly _fainted_ for? She was generally quite strong, and couldn't see how this could have happened. Thinking back on the past few weeks, however, quickly answered her question.

She hadn't eaten at all (and hadn't noticed) because of all the tasks her and the other purebloods were sent out to do. The Dark Lord had them on a rigorous, erratic schedule which had them out 23 hours of the usual day. She'd seen Fenrir Greyback fall out of an apparition _snoring_, because he'd fallen asleep in the short time span it had taken him to pop from one place to another.

She sneered at the ones that were overcome with exhaustion. She thought she was tougher, more resilient. _I suppose not_.

The only one who hadn't been overworked recently was Snape, the bastard, because of his position as a double agent. She didn't trust him, but Narcissa did, and that was the only thing that kept her from torturing & killing the greasy git. She stood up, peering at the clock. She'd been out for about four hours, not too long. She felt the back of her head. The bandage Lily-Jane had placed over her wound was soaked through with blood. She'd have to have Rodolphus take a look at it when he got him. Or perhaps the Dark Lord could heal it for her in seconds, but then she'd have to _give him what he wanted. _She honestly didn't think her body could handle that.

She tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness hit her again, so she had to inch her way slowly across the floor to the adjoining bedroom. She grabbed a glass of water from the night stand, and drank hungrily from it. It soothed her parched throat, and she felt an intense relief. She grabbed the bed, and hauled herself up onto the mattress. She slipped between the sheets, and pulled the covers over her head.

And as Bellatrix began to lose herself to much-needed sleep, her dark mark began to burn.

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_Where am I supposed to hide now?_

_What am I supposed to do?_

_Did you really think I wouldn't see this through?_

_Tell me I should stick around for you._

_Tell me I could have it all._

_I'm still too tired to care and I gotta go. _


	5. The Remedy

**Chapter Five: The Remedy**

Rain lashed the windowpanes harshly, creating infinite teardrops that bled down the outside glass. Hermione stared at them, as if they would take her away into the night, so she wouldn't be expected to be something she wasn't, and didn't have to pretend anymore. It grew more frustrating for her every day, and she got angrier and felt more hopeless as time progressed.

"Hermione! Yes? Or No?" Ron barked a question at her exasperatedly from across the table. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. What was your question?" She sounded disinterested and hollow.

"Well I must've asked you at least _four_ times, but," Ron paused, studying her feigned smile, "I was wondering if we could have a trade-off. I'm rubbish at writing essays, and I thought maybe if you did my Potions homework for me, I could do something for you."

Her old motherly instincts rose to the surface, and the girl she used to be seized her words for a moment, "Ronald, you seriously can't expect to pass the OWL's at the rate you've been going. You always cheat, copy, or get someone else to be responsible for your work. That's not how it works in the real world."

She watched his face deflate, and felt the obstinate, old Hermione, fade back into the shadows of her soul. "Alright, alright," she tried to sound annoyed, but she just didn't _care_, "I'll do it for you tonight. And I expect nothing in return." More schoolwork meant more alone time, away from the eyes of others; her frightening, shallow, judgmental peers.

To say Ron was surprised was a bit of an understatement. His eyebrows rose so high they disappeared behind his red fringe. "I-I. Are you sure? There's _nothing_ you want me to do?" He seemed progressively more joyous at the prospect of not having to do anything.

_Lazy git _her mind snarled, and she said through gritted teeth, "Yes. I am certain. Now go away before I change my mind."

He wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug, kissed the top of her head, and left her sitting in the library alone. She sighed and pulled out some parchment. It would be a long, busy night.

The next morning, Hermione gave Ron the essay in the Gryffindor Common Room. She'd made it believable, to his standard, and even misspelled words on purpose to make it more convincing. Descending the moving staircase alone, the smell of bacon, toast, and sausage wafted into her nose. It smelled delicious, but at the same time sickening. She decided to skip breakfast and spend the morning outside.

The early November air was bitter and unforgiving as Hermione walked through the courtyard, hugging her books tightly to her chest. She looked out at the morbid scene before her; a deep gray sky stretched over endless, dark hills that encircled the murky lake that had carried her to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a handful of times. This place was indeed her true home; but it didn't feel like it anymore. Endless, cold days, pompous teachers, stupid teenagers, and the friendships that were once her stronghold rapidly fading away….. it did _not _feel like home.

_Nothing feels like home. There is no place in this world that will fill the void..._

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tightly. A lump had been forming in her throat, and she hadn't noticed until that moment. _Staystrong staystrong staystrong _she told herself over and over again, and eventually the lump melted, sliding down her throat, filling up her lungs, only to wait for its release at another point in time. "Not now…" she whispered, and bit her lower lip.

A stream of students suddenly emerged from the castle, and she knew it was time for her first class. She fixed her mouth into her 'hallway smile', and stood up to join the sea of robed students, pretending that she had not a care in the world.

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Bellatrix stared down at her hands, her eyes drooping half shut. The constant death-eater meetings were taking a toll on her, she hardly ate, slept, and didn't have the energy to look at her Lord as he hissed out orders. Ever since she'd killed Sirius, he had been treating her with obvious favor, but it all seemed different today. She could feel the static energy in the air, Voldemort was _furious_, seething with rage. Someone would die tonight, one of his followers, she could feel it. She'd fallen in love with his darkness, his sadism, his coldhearted indifference. Now it seemed to her like too much. She tired of the constant drama, the torture, and above all his selfishness.

Feeling his eyes on her, Bellatrix occluded her mind instantly. "I have called you all here today in a matter regarding the Potter child." He sounded as if he was trying to extremely hard to control the emotion in his voice.

There were murmurs and whispers throughout the congregation, excited plots of vengeance already forming in the death eaters minds. Bellatrix kept her mind empty and her mouth closed.

"I believe Dumbledore has told him about the Horcruxes, and together they plan to seek and destroy them." He spoke with a tension and vulnerability in his voice that Bellatrix had never heard before. Immediate silence blanketed the meeting. Every Death Eater faced Voldemort, attentive and ready for whatever was to come.

"_LUCIUS_!" He demanded suddenly, the anger and malice chilling her to the bone. The silver-blonde Malfoy knelt before him, kissing his robes tenderly.

"My Lord." He said with such admiration and respect Bellatrix could feel Narcissas disgust from across the room.

Voldemort placed a seemingly gentle, caring hand atop the mans head. "I need you to bring Draco to the next meeting. The time has come for his initiation. I have a very special task for him, Lucius. You should be honored that I am giving this opportunity to _your son_."

Bellatrix felt Snape stiffen next to her. She was quite aware of the fact that he had made an oath to protect Draco with her sister, and if anything happened to her nephew Snape was done for. Bellatrix certainly wouldn't mind never having to see that obnoxiously large nose again. But the despair that Narcissa would fall into if Draco died…..she didn't even want her son to become a death eater. Bellatrix thought this was ridiculous; if she had a child the first thing she would give it was a dark mark.

_I'll never be with child, as well I shouldn't. I have no capacity to love; and that saddens me._

The thought was unexpected, and seized her with an overwhelming power. She was not one to succumb to emotion, so she inwardly slapped herself, grabbed that sliver of realization that had just popped into her head, and buried it deep under years of apathy and taking pleasure in seeing people suffer. It made everything so much easier, it always had; ever since she was a child.

The next Death Eater Meeting did include Dracos initiation. The boy was pale, shaking, and looked as if he might sick up at any moment. Bellatrix rolled her eyes at this, remembering those days of being frightened and emotional, filled with hormonal imbalances and ridiculous sex drives. Once the dark mark was forever imprinted on the boys skin, Voldemort finally decided to reveal what the boys task would be.

"You will finish school, my boy. But you must do something very important this year. You must _kill_ Dumbledore. I will put this very important task in your hands." The boys eyes were wide, panicked, and terrified.

"Y-yes my Lord," he uttered. As soon as the Dark Lord left, Narcissa collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Bellatrix would usually scorn her, tell her it was a great honor, and so forth, but she knew Voldemort too well. He intended for the boy to fail at his task, and die. He was doing this to punish Lucius because he was angry at the man for delaying his sons initiation for so long. He probably had an entire back-up plan to get Dumbledore killed, which only few people knew about. She knew Snape did, she could read the 'reserved' potions master like an open book. The death eaters dispersed, leaving the Malfoys to themselves.

As Bellatrix walked slowly up the pathway to the cottage, a sullen Rodolphus at her side, another repressed thought swam to the surface of her mind.

_I don't want to do this anymore. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Save your breath, your soul is hollow._

_And it's all too much to swallow._


	6. My Skin

**Chapter Six: My Skin**

"You're _disgusting,_" Hermione said aloud to her reflection, staring back at her ominously. She had figured it was safe to stop applying the glamour charm to herself, but now she wasn't so sure. There were more red spots, dry skin, and pronounced bones on her face than she ever remembered. Her body curved out awkwardly (in her mind) and made a pear shape.

"I look like a damned fruit." She said to herself, and smiled lightly at the fact that she could still grasp humor. She looked down at her hands, red and blistering from the Potions class earlier that day. She had partnered up with Neville, being the dunce he was, and their assignment turned into a foul-smelling explosion. Her hands had been on fire, and she had been on the brink of screaming in agony. Something about the pain had grounded her, however, and she felt oddly serene when the severe burn made her palms throb. Snape had hurriedly told her to go to Madame Pomfrey, and she had calmly refused. He had said no more, but kept glancing at her curiously throughout the rest of the class.

_Greasy old bastard. _She sighed dejectedly, and decided not to apply the glamour. It would look too suspicious, too many people had noticed her perfect skin, and all wanted to know her 'secret'. She didn't mind when the girls in her year looked at her with admiration, and _hopefully_ attraction, but the risk of having someone find out that she would stoop that low to hide her imperfections, _well._ Staring at her reflection again, she just didn't understand why she was so awkward-looking, so _plain_, while everyone else held a special uniqueness about them.

_You're a pretty girl. A pretty, pretty girl._

That disgusting, foreboding voice popped up into her head. How could she trust those words that came from a person that had hurt her so much. She was sick of being bounded by this insecurity, she had felt this way for so long. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and left the girls bathroom.

The hallway was bustling with students, talking, laughing, pushing each other out of the way, but Hermione walked at a slower pace, making her way to class as though she was heading to a death sentence. Herbology was a waste of her time, but her grades were her way to escape from her house, so she listened intently as Professor Sprout droned on about this vine and that leaf.

Ron and Harry had given up on trying to get her to talk, and it was just as well. She never had much to say. She was irritated, exhausted, and found excitement in nothing, in no one. Everyone else was so busy with their lives, her presence was no more than a shadow, something they saw but didn't acknowledge. To say the least, things were grim.

Hermione spent a great deal of time thinking about all the things that were going wrong, and the entitled feelings she had in response to them. She barely ate a thing, and the dizziness and the sharp pains in her stomach distracted her from the outside world. She also found solace in her bed, laying there in the darkness, slipping into a peaceful world of her own, free of problems. Curling up under the comforter, she tried to drift off to sleep.

It was a stormy night, and rain lashed the windowpanes. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and Hermione curled up into a fetal position in response to the raging weather. She wanted someone to sing to her, to hold her, to tell her it was all okay, and then have it actually _be _okay. She didn't just want it, she _needed_ it, if she was ever going to get through the next few years of her life.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she pinched herself on the wrist so hard it began to bleed. _You don't need anyone, you stupid girl. _She convinced herself of this, if only for a moment, and used this self-destructive lie to soothe herself into a slumber, where the monsters of her past couldn't get her.

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"Bellatrix, it's time to get up. The Dark Lord calls." Bellatrix pushed away Rodolphus' gentle hand violently, and pulled the covers up over her head.

"_Bella_," she heard her husbands stern voice from somewhere above her.

"Tell him to go fuck himself," she snapped grumpily, but threw the covers off of herself, and got out of bed.

"You shouldn't say things like that," Rodolphus responded.

"Oh, its not like he's watching _us_. He has more important matters to tend to, like the Boy Who Doesn't Seem To Die." She made her way to the bathroom groggily.

Rodolphus gave up, and sat down on the bed. "Hurry up, _darling,_" he said bitterly. Bellatrix sneered at him, made an unkind hand gesture, and slammed the bathroom door.

_Does he even care? Is there one bit of emotion left between us? Or has it all been strangled by this tortured, imagined divinity that the Lord has been leading us to believe? _Bellatrix kicked the side of the bathtub. Her mind seemed to go against what her whole life had been devoted to. It was sick irony, and she supposed she deserved it. It wasn't like they slept together anymore. They just lay there in the dark, the tension between them thriving until one fell to sleep. She remembered when they were young, and though she never fell madly in love with him, the sweet, tender way he treated her was something she missed more than she thought she would. Even Bellatrix Lestrange grew tired of bickering and insults.

After five rushed minutes of getting ready, the unhappy couple made their way to the death eather meeting in the early morning. Dawn was just breaking in the far east, which cast an eerie gloom over the cemetery Voldemort had called them to.

When he finally arrived, Bellatrix had to push all the anger and resentment she felt down, down, down. _Down _was the only thing she could focus on, and she held onto hiding her feelings so tightly that the anger dissipated almost instantly.

He spoke for a while about how proud he was of them, and joyously announced the number of Muggles that had been murdered in the past week. "But, more importantly, I think I have a plan to get the Potter child into my handsssss…"

Excitement bubbled up in Bellatrix. If Voldemort captured the little bastard, she would have _so much fun_ torturing him. It would be a release for all the horrendous thoughts her mind had been producing lately. The anticipation was very apparent among the group, Voldemort seemed very confident in his plan.

"Asss you all know, I have a connection to the boy through hisss dreamsss. I can alssso glimpssse the occassssional thought or feeling. It seemsss as though he caresss very much for hisss little Mudblood friend, the Granger girl," snickering arose.

"If we capture her, hurt the filthy little thing, he will mossst sssurely come after her. I am assssigning you, Fenrir Greyback, to thisss task." The dirty man looked so pleased Bellatrix almost threw up. She was frustrated. _Why haven't I been assigned any task of late? _

The plan was set in motion. Bellatrix realized with glee that Snape had not been summoned, so he couldn't rub her face in the fact that the Dark Lords trust in her was dwindling. When Bellatrix had inquired of his whereabouts, Voldemort responded very flippantly that he had 'other matters to attend to.'

The sun was high in the sky by the time the meeting ended. Rodolphus and Bellatrix left in silence, her seething with rage all the while. Voldemort had told her she was perfect, that she was his _favorite_, and he was going back on his word. Well, he was the greatest evil of the current wizarding world, so she wasn't that surprised that he was deceptive.

When they reached their home, and both collapsed exhaustedly on the bed, Rodolphus had tried to be intimate with her. Bellatrix slapped him so hard his nose bled. He went downstairs, and didn't return. _Everyone leaves _she thought bitterly, and slipped away.

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_I'm the slow dying flower_

_In the frost killing hour._

_Sweet turning sour,_

_And untouchable. _


	7. Hurt

**Chapter Seven: Hurt**

Hermione winced as the razorblade sliced the skin stretched over her hipbone, and sighed in relief as the pain receptors in her brain made her completely ignorant to anything else. Blood travelled from the slightly deep laceration, forming red rivulets on her thighs. She disposed of the blade quickly, and turned on the shower. The hot water stung the fresh injury, and washed all the crimson liquid away. Later that morning she dressed in her school robes, smiling each time a piece of clothing brushed the cut, and the painful throbbing banished all her worries to the back of her mind.

It was a Saturday, and she planned to spend the whole day in the Gryffindor Common room, watching the swirling snowflakes through the windowpanes as a comforting fire blazed inside. Her stomach grumbled, but the thought of toast slathered with margarine and bacon grease made her gag inwardly, so she headed straight for a burgundy armchair next to the fire, the latest potions textbook clutched tightly in her hand.

She didn't particularly enjoy reading the drivel, it was that the book solely focused logical fractions and numbers that fit into making a perfect potion. _Facts. Numbers. _It was all black and white, everything made perfect sense in the experiments, and things turned out just the way they should.

After a few hours of staring all too intently at the pages, she felt the looming presence of her two 'best' friends before her. She looked up at Harry and Ron, quirking her right eyebrow, and said casually, "How's your weekend going?"

Ron smiled weakly and turned nervous eyes on Harry. The Savior of the wizarding world held a plate of steamed vegetables out to her. "I brought you some lunch, Hermione." He said, holding her gaze in a way which made her uncomfortable.

"Thanks," she forced a smile, "But I'm not really too hungry."

Harry set the plate of vegetables on the table next to her. "Funny," he said, irritation evident in his tone, "You're _never _really too hungry. Explains why you've probably lost two stone in the past month."

Narrowing her eyes, she picked up a mushy carrot off of the plate, and placed it in her mouth. She hid her disgust the whole time she chewed and swallowed. "Satisfied?"

"Hermione," Harry said in a much gentler tone, "We're worried about you."

"Why?" She answered disinterestedly, turning her eyes back to the textbook.

"You spend all your time alone, I _never _see you at mealtimes, you hardly speak to us anymore, and you're looking very thin." He let out a deep breath, and Hermione assumed he'd been preparing this speech.

"I don't feel much like spending time with two people who are so absorbed in themselves they don't have the decency to drop issues which have already been dealt with." She answered placidly.

"I told you it was a waste of time, mate," she heard Ron mutter under his breath.

"You haven't been well this whole term, Hermione. And you know it." Harry was not giving up so easily.

She snorted. "You're melodramatic preaching _does _get annoying after a while, _boy wonder_."

"I'm only saying this to you because I care about you," Harry tried again.

"If you really cared about me you would bugger off!" Hermione exclaimed, "I'm too exhausted to deal with _either_ of you." Slamming her textbook shut, she stood up, eye-to-eye with Harry. "_Leave. Me. Alone." _She hissed through gritted teeth.

He shook his head, igniting her fury. She grabbed the plate of vegetables, and hurled it against the stone wall. Before she could see their reactions, she pushed past the two of them violently, and stormed up the stairwell towards the girls dormitory.

Hermione fell asleep early that afternoon, so deeply that she didn't wake at the loud explosion that emanated from the lower floors. She didn't wake at the sound of screams, crumbling of stone, or the smoke from the fire. She only woke the gloved, black hand clamped itself over her mouth. A burst of pain erupted in the back of her head, and everything went black.

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_You could have it all_

_My empire of dirt._

_I will take you down._

_I will make you hurt._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

AN: sorry about the short chapter, (the next one, they start interacting XD) I haven't had time to update, its summer before senior year!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Benny Benassi is the most amazing DJ ever).


	8. DLZ

**Chapter Eight: DLZ**

The bushy-haired girl laying unconscious in the dark cell looked nothing like the girl Bellatrix had seen six months ago in the Department Of Mysteries. She knew it was the nasty little mudblood, but the girl had changed significantly. She was severely underweight, her cheekbones protruding grotesquely against her white skin. She had slept deeply since her capture, and Bellatrix wanted to wake up the girl and make her writhe under the Cruciatus Curse, but Voldemorts orders were specific; keep her alive until the next meeting, a gathering at dawn in two days.

Bellatrix had gotten the rotten end of Voldemorts bad mood since the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts, he didn't let her torture _anyone, _and made her watch as the other members had their fun. She had no idea what she could've done to upset him, but maybe she hadn't been as efficient at occluding her mind as she thought.

Hogwarts had been able to ward off the attack, meaning Dumbledore had gotten most of the students to safety, and Harry Potter had disappeared into hiding. There were at least 50 casualties, mostly defenseless first years and seventh years with amusing confidence in their magic. The Granger girl was the only one that was unharmed, though Lucius and Fenrir wanted to have a little fun with the girl, Severus had hexed them both, since he had become the Dark Lords sidekick as of late. Bellatrix saw him go white when an eleven-year-old girl was thrown into a wall during the attack, and something in his eyes told her he definitely did not enjoy doing the dark bidding as much as he used to.

Bellatrix was assigned watch duty for the night, so she was trapped in this cell with a Mudblood she couldn't torture or harm in any way. The Dark Lord knew how to play with her mind, and perhaps that was why she was so drawn to him. The girl snored softly, jerking now and again in her sleep. She had been knocked on the head pretty hard, but it seemed she would come to in a few hours.

"You filthy little know-it-all," Bellatrix snarled at Hermione's sleeping form, "You know _nothing _of pain. At least you won't until you are at the mercy of the True Lord."

Hermione moaned in her sleep, and turned so she wasn't facing the woman sitting next to her. The cold stone shocked the right side of her face, and she jerked away for a moment.

_Wait. _

Hermione thought to herself; this just didn't seem right. _A grown woman sitting next to me, going on about pain and mercy, and a cold stone floor. Hm._

Her eyes opened immediately. She was facing a grim stone wall that mirrored the grim stone floor she laid upon. She reached tentatively to touch the back of her head, vaguely recalling an assault to that area. She felt a large bump, and a sticky, dry substance which could only be blood.

"_Confused_?" A shrill, angry voice sounded behind her. Hermione didn't even have to turn around to see her tormentor, she would know that chilling tone anywhere.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she spoke her captors name aloud, because it was the only thing she could think of to do.

Five sharp fingernails dug into her shoulders, and she was flipped on her back by the death eaters surprising strength. She looked up at the older woman's pale, yet beautiful face. "I suppose this is where the pain begins?" Her indifference pushed her panic down.

Bellatrix was shaking with fury. The Mudblood was practically asking for it, and she couldn't do _anything_ to her. Bellatrix adopted a coy smile, and looked away. "Fortunately for you, no. We're going to dangle you like a piece of meat in front of the Dark Lords face, so he can slowly break you. And you have forty-eight hours to wait in fear." _Ooooh, Menacing. _She scolded herself, not sounding half as dangerous as she'd wanted to.

"Why not now?" The girl responded emotionlessly, "I know how you _lo_ve torturing the blood traitors."

Bellatrix knelt down in front of Hermione, and got so close to her face that the girl could feel the woman's breath on her cheeks. "If I'd had it my way," Bellatrix hissed between clenched teeth, "You'd already be on the floor, writhing in agony, as each of your internal organs was pulled slowly from your body." She was pleased when the Mudblood flinched.

She placed two fingers under the girls jawbone, and grinned. "Your pulse is _racing_. There is no way out, little girl. You _will _die."

_There is no way out. No way out, no way out, no way out…._Hermione closed her eyes, and automatically began to disrobe.

Perplexed by her unusual reaction, Bellatrix backed away from her, drew her own conclusions, and sent a new spew of insults her prisoners way, "You think that _fucking_ is a way to get out of this predicament? I wouldn't touch your worthless, filthy body if the Dark Lord himself ordered me to."

The girl stopped trying to undo the tie on her tattered school robe, but remained in the same position, staring vacantly at a spot just above Bellatrixs' left shoulder.

"_YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME_!" Bellatrix screamed furiously. The one thing she could not stand was to be ignored. First the Dark Lord, and now this worthless little slut who should be begging her for mercy.

The vacancy left her eyes, and Hermione snapped back to reality. "You wouldn't want to touch it anyway," she said, acknowledging what the woman had said before, and fell to her knees.

Bellatrix did a double-take. Her victims weren't usually this submissive until they had been tortured for a few hours at least. Well, at least breaking the girl wouldn't be hard. She seemed as if she was already broken.

"What happened to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, barely above a whisper.

Bellatrix grinned. "Your little school is a shambles. Who knows how many of your friends are _dead_?"

"_I have none." _Hermione deadpanned. Before Bellatrix could ask her to elaborate, Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

Bellatrix checked the girls pulse. While very weak, it was still there. If the Dark Lord wanted to keep her alive, food would be very crucial. Remembering a meal would come for Granger in a few more hours, Bellatrix abandoned her desire to torment and fell asleep herself.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_**Congratulations on the mess you made of things.**_

_**I'm trying to reconstruct the air and all that brings.**_

_**And oxidation is the compromise you own,**_

_**But this is beginning to feel like the dog wants her bones.**_


	9. All Is Numb

**Chapter Nine: All Is Numb**

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she suppressed a groan. She shivered involuntarily, and squeezed her mouth shut to quiet the sound of her incessantly chattering teeth. Her head was pounding worse than before, and trying to sit up wasn't even an option. She carefully rolled herself onto her other side using her elbows, and had to smother a squeak of surprise when her face ended up inches from her captors. Bellatrix was curled up into a fetal position on her left side, her thick black curls spread out on the floor behind her head. Her face was white as a sheet, her heavy eyelids looked dark with exhaustion, and her blood red lips were pursed in a scowl. Still, she looked quite vulnerable, and quite attractive.

Ignoring the strange draw to the older woman, Hermione pushed herself onto her back, and winced as the sensitive bruise on her scalp touched the stone floor. She tried to worry about Harry, about Ron, about Hogwarts, but the fluttering sound of deep-breathing next to her was distracting. Her eyes wandered over to Bellatrix once again, trying to make out the shape of her body, but the Death Eater was wrapped in a large black cloak that concealed any of her alluring attributes.

_You're an idiot _she scorned herself, _you are going to die, and all you can think about is a lunatic woman's body parts. _All she could do was lay still, wondering about what day it was, what condition the outside world was in, and so on. Hermione was so lost in thought that when a gruff voice addressed Bellatrix and something clattered to the floor of the cell, she didn't even look up.

"_Fuck you_, Fenrir." Bellatrix spat, looking up at her ugly colleague.

Greyback threw two plates of food through the bars, and Bellatrix winced at the sound of metal colliding with stone. "I'm not the one caged up with the Mudblood," he smiled smugly, baring his graying teeth.

Bellatrix drew her wand, a scathing look upon her face. "_Crucio_!" She smiled as he fell to the floor, deep, guttural screams emitting from his mouth.

At the sounds of the tortured screams of agony, Hermione sat upright. She saw stars, and had to balance herself on her hands for a moment. "Stop. Please." Her voice wasn't pitiful, but held a seriousness to it that Bellatrix hadn't expected. Bella kept the man writhing for a few moments longer, to show Hermione that her words meant nothing, and cackled maniacally as she ended the curse.

"_You bloody worthless SLAG!" _Fenrir screamed, his voice quavering slightly, "The Dark Lord will hear about this!"

"I don't think he would concern himself with your discomfort," she smiled, "Protego." She blocked his attempt at revenge lazily. Fenrir spluttered for a few moments indistinguishably, and stormed off.

Bellatrix turned to Hermione once he had disappeared. Instinctively, she had jumped back, and covered her face with one hand.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Bellatrix said disgustedly, "Surely you've figured out that you're being kept as bait?"

Hermione shot her an incredulous look. "_Really_?" she queried sarcastically, "I thought I was here because you enjoyed my company."

Bellatrix delivered a stinging slap to her face. Hermione cowered away, drawing her knees to her chest, hiding her face with her hair like a child. The woman giggled at her despair.

"Misery becomes you…" Bellatrix said thoughtfully, "yet it will be quite _interesting_ to see how you deal with the Dark Lord." Hermione didn't make a sound, trying to escape to the familiar, dark abyss of her mind.

"There is food being provided, I suggest you take advantage of what you can. It will be, after all, one of your _last_ meals." The girl remained silent. Bellatrix frowned. Antagonizing her victims wasn't as enjoyable when they elicited no response. She wanted to make her _scream…_

Bellatrix tried another tactic. "Isn't it awful to think about Mummy and Daddy, so confused, so sad, not knowing where their poor, _worthless_ daughter is? And how they'll weep over her mangled body, hidden away in a coffin beneath the dirt, where she _belongs_." The words hung in the air, static with their harsh delivery, and the anticipation was almost too much for the twisted Death Eater to handle.

Then Hermione laughed. A cold, bitter, hysterical laugh, which echoed eerily around the cell. It wasn't a derisive snort, or an attempt to seem indifferent, it was a laugh that brought tears of utter and absolute amusement to Hermione's eyes, and she laughed, until her muscles hurt, until she felt she couldn't laugh anymore, and still the torrents of guffaws came, taking Hermione on a rollercoaster of emotions, but the hysteria was ever present.

Bellatrix had seen many deranged and disturbing things, but she had to admit to herself that this was a first. She could do nothing but watch, almost tempted to join the odd behavior herself (as she so often did, to throw others off), yet something told her to not partake in it.

Hermione clutched her abdomen, still giggling, and made direct eye contact with Bellatrix. "You…" she tried to catch her breath, "You…you…think…" her face was flushed with an emotion she couldn't quite name, "they'd _weep_? She wants me in the dirt….I..I took him _away _from her…" she shook her head and smiled, as though explaining something to a toddler, "and he knows how horrible it is…..I am…it's so ridiculous…" she threw her head back, letting out two final laughs, "you think they'd be heartbroken….._how utterly ironic_…". She wiped her 'joyful' tears away, and sighed heavily.

Bellatrix was at a loss for what to say, but pin-pointed the pain in the girls words, and decided to use that against her. It was the only way she could communicate, or even begin to understand another human being. "I'm _sure _your mother wants you dead, I would if I had to see your face on a daily bleeding basis." Her words were void of the usual malice that ignited them.

"_Exactly_!" The girl said, throwing her arms up in the air, her eyes shining.

_What am I supposed to do? Argue? That would make her feel..better? If I agree I lead her to believe that I know she is worthless, but it's agreeing nevertheless. _Bella simply would not give up her power in the situation, so she jumped to a different subject as quickly as she could.

"I'm not here to sit and watch you reminisce about your pathetic life. Quit spewing incessant bullshit that _no one gives two damns about_, and eat your food!" Her frustration was evident to the girl now, but she had to take it out on somebody.

Hermione felt an unbelievable amount of rage surge though her at this. She picked up the plate Bellatrix had shoved towards her, and hurled it against the wall with all her strength. The resulting sound made her confident in her physical strength, and at that rush of adrenaline, she saw red. Bellatrix opened her mouth to make another smug comment, but before she could, Hermione bellowed, "_SHUT THE FUCK UP_!" her breathing was short and heavy, "YOU INITIATED THE CONVERSATION! YOU THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN _HURT_?!?!"

Bellatrix was taken aback by her abrupt mood-change, but reached for her wand instinctively. Hermione knocked it out of her hand, and punched her square in the nose. The pain was brief, but the river of blood that came gushing from her nostrils distracted her from her retaliation.

Hermione stood over her, shaking with fury, and just as quickly as the anger came, it dissipated. She unclenched her fists, and turned away from her. A wave of nausea swept over her instantly, and she vomited violently onto the plate of Bellatrixs untouched food.

"_You little cunt_," Bellatrix spat, and cuffed her around the back of the head, "You are so lucky I can't kill you."

Hermione snorted, and rubbed the back of her head to assuage the sharp pain. She fell to her knees, and crawled to the opposite end of the cell, _away, away, away.._

Bellatrix repaired her nose quickly with a wand flick, and did likewise with the blood and vomit. She approached Hermione, figuring that if the girl hated physical contact, she'd give her what she hated. The girl kept an even stare with her, watching her movements carefully, analytically, but not nervously. "What the _fuck i_s wrong with you?" Was the only thing Bella could ask.

"I could ask you the same," Hermione answered, hollow agony returning to her voice, "but your reality is different. How could you possibly understand me, and I, you?"

Never, in her many hundreds of victims, had one tried to _understand _her. _Why would anyone want to? _Her self-conscious snuck up on her again.

"Where's the valor in there, girl? We're all self-serving, but the purebloods are the only ones who should have the privilege of adopting that behavior." Bellatrix responded, nose in the air.

"That's it, you're bigotry just answers all your questions for you, does it?" Hermione bit her lower lip, "_Just go away_."

"I won't be going away, as much as I'd relish to, for as long as you're here," Bellatrix snarled, "and if _this_.." she sat down next to her, breathing down her neck, "makes you uncomfortable, I'll make sure your stay here is as least comfortable as possible. It's what you deserve, you _filthy mudblood_."

Hermione jumped at the amount of closeness she was experiencing. She knew it was bad, but it wasn't as terrible as it would be if, oh, say, Bellatrix had decided to _skin her alive_, which Hermione was sure she had to have done to at least a few people in her time. Tired of responding to the woman's constant provocation, she reached for that place where she could just escape…inside her own head…

"None of that," Bellatrix smiled cruelly, poking a finger painfully into her side, "You're going to be _here_ for this."

So she'd picked up on her defense mechanism. The only person that had ever read that deeply into her was a Death Eater. "That's just great." Hermione grumbled, curling in on herself.

"So how did you take Daddy away from Mummy?" Bellatrix asked, running a finger down the curve of her neck, and getting more enthusiastic as she felt the girls fear grow.

Hermione pursed her lips, and willed herself not to say anything. So much worry, so much covering, so much hiding, and _this _is where it all comes undone? No, she couldn't let this happen.

"Keep doing that.." Hermione sighed, as though in pleasure, "I love your hands on me." She leaned her back against Bella's body.

"Do you?" Bellatrix whispered in her ear, losing herself for just a moment, and pressed a kiss to the young woman's jawbone.

_Just pretend with her like you pretended with him it will all be over soon no one will find out just pretend just pretend _her mantra kept her sane. But something was different about this. When her father came to her room late at night, as fathers never should, it was so utterly horrible, there was no desire, just pain and restraint. But Bella's kisses were soft, gentle, moving to the curve of her neck, and she felt the urge she had felt the first time she had seen Lavender Browns naked body, only a hundred fold.

Bellatrix stopped, naturally, because the girl seemed to enjoy it. She needed her to be _miserable_. But she couldn't ignore how tempting Hermione was, partly because of her submissive attitude, her damaged soul, and the way her ivory skin had tasted on her tongue. She shoved the girl away, and calmed her breathing before speaking again, "You are nothing. Just a toy I can play with on occasion. Get used to it, it's the last thing you'll know."

The rejection of something she had craved so deeply for didn't hit Hermione immediately. She had shrugged indifferently, muttered, "I'll be dead soon anyways," and curled up on the floor once more, searching for sleep. As she slipped away, tremors wracked her body. Whether from the cold, the emotional exhaustion, or from the misery of it all, it wasn't apparent. Just a delayed physical reaction playing itself out in her sleep.

Bellatrix watched her jerk violently, but couldn't bring herself to enjoy it. Instead, she untied the heavy black cloak from her neck, and draped it over her prisoner. Hermione grabbed the edge of the cloak, and pulled it up to her chin, and murmured something incoherent. Once the tremors had subsided, Bellatrix took the cloak back, leaving no evidence her civil deed. She drew back into the opposite corner of the cell, and escaped to her dreams.

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Here you'll stay**_

_**Where lies are spread wide open,**_

_**And ties are not so strong.**_

_**That place you'll never find me,**_

_**I've already gone.**_


	10. Nice Shot

_A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! _

**Chapter Ten: Nice Shot**

Bellatrix shifted the near-weightless teenager in her arms, grumbling to herself. "I could carry it for a while," Rodolphus offered meekly from her side, "Don't want you to catch whatever she has."

Bellatrix snorted, "And you'd rather catch it yourself, Rodolphus? I've been caged up with this filth for the last two days, it wouldn't do much good now to take her off my hands."

"That's what concerns me," Rodolphus pressed on, "she looks peaked and ill. I heard she had a fit in the cell."

Bellatrix sharply pushed the image of Hermiones seizure out of her mind. "Too much Cruciatus," she explained, "Fenrir took my watch for a mere hour and couldn't control himself, and he _was aware_ that the Dark Lord wanted her to be kept alive."

"He shouldn't blame us. Fenrir is a half-breed, he'll execute him immediately and that will be the end of it." Rodolphus stated. Bellatrix nodded in agreement, and the thought of Fenrir being tortured and killed brought a small smile to her face.

The graveyard was desolate, for her and Rodolphus arrived first at the meeting. A thick gray fog rolled through the cemetery, swathing the land of the dead with an eerily foreboding environment. As if _any_ of the places Death Eaters congregated at _weren't _foreboding. Hermione was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and the couple waited for the arrival of their Lord.

Voldemort swept in twenty minutes later, and was content with his group of black-hooded followers gathered around a small, underweight, shaking teenager who, he was sure, would be the ultimate downfall of Harry Potter. "Thisss girl" he spoke, once he had caught the attention of every fearful soul standing in the place, "thisss _filth.. " _he hissed disgustedly, walking towards Hermione and pushing her with his toe, "must be brought to justice, for _what she is_."

The amount of cheering and whooping that came from the group almost drowned him out. But with natural authority in his voice he screamed, "_SILENCE!_ She must not be killed….in fact…up until this point the little bitch wasn't even supposed to be hurt….but _someone…_.." he stared down the filthy werewolf, who was shaking in terror, "disobeyed these orders………however, that will be dealt with later. For now, I must give you instructions, the plan has been formulated."

The plan was clever, complicated, and sinister, quite appealing to the group full of violent, broken followers. However, it was not something that Bellatrix _wanted_ to do. He gave her and her husband the role of taking 'care' of the Mudblood, or in more basic terms, keeping her locked up and miserable. It wasn't the maltreatment Bellatrix cared about, it was the fact that the little Mudblood taint would be in _her_ house, around _her_ things, and present in _her_ life. She wanted to be out with the death eaters that wreaked havoc upon the muggle world, causing tragedy and death wherever they went. Every week, the death eaters were to gather at her house, assess the girl, maybe rough her up a bit, and deliver the news to Harry Potter whichever way they could. Eventually, her location would be given up, and Potter was to be lured there. Voldemort left out who would finally capture the Golden Git, saying only, "he will be captured during his less than noble, and hopefully final, journey." After assessment, Bellatrix became aware that Snape wasn't at this meeting, and _he _would be the one Voldemort confided all his secret plans to. This sparked her rage, as it normally did, because she felt she was the most loyal death eater.

Hermione had not stirred for the whole of this meeting, and an unconscious victim was not nearly as much fun as the ones who were fully awake. She was spit on a few times, touched and exposed for a moment before Voldemort dissuaded the excited men from their purpose. Why he did that, Bellatrix was unaware. She walked wearily up to Hermione, as Voldemort instructed her, and hoisted the skin-and-bones body into her arms.

"Don't worry, Bella will see to it she suffers," Voldemort said, what was supposed to be a smile turning up the corners of his mouth, "and now for you, Fenrir_. AVADA KEDAVRA_!" His body slumped to the ground. There was no reaction to the death of a fellow 'colleague', it just happened, it was just the way it was, and everyone turned their backs, eager to return to their homes.

Hermione couldn't manage to repress the horror of her current situation. She was stuck in a house with two of the most dangerous and batshit crazy death-eaters in Voldemorts clan. The situation at her home was terrible, sure, but this was a version of her own private hell. Bellatrix could see something in her, she could see beyond her defenses, and once she discovered her precious little secret she would exploit it to the world, simply to break her down.

"It's _my _secret! _Mine_…I was there, I chose to hide it, and it belongs only to _me_." Hermione hissed at the wall. She wrapped her arms around her torso, wincing at the sharpness and protuberance of her ribs. She dug her fingernails into her palms until blood dripped from the ten little marks, down her palms, down her wrists, and finally dripped onto and stained the filthy nightgown she was wearing. The pain was such a relief, such a distraction. She stopped hyperventilating and hissing, momentarily basking in a false sense of serenity. She curled up in a fetal position on the ratty mattress that Bellatrix had deposited her body on, and tried to imagine a fire, a soft pillow, a warm cup of tea from her father, when he was being gentle, when she was too young for him to hurt her…

Hermiones head snapped up as the lock on the door clicked once. The second lock clicked. The door flew open. Bellatrix stood in the doorframe, holding a large padlock in her hand. She was clad in only a giant T-shirt, her hair pinned up messily to the top of her head, which accentuated her gaunt features and dark, piercing eyes_. _

_Frightening_, Hermione thought, _but beautiful_.

"You little bitch," Bellatrix was hideously angry, "You took him _away_." The woman didn't sound like she was in a sane mind state, which she rarely was, but it was apparent to Hermione the woman was in a worse way, more dangerous than the average psycho-Bella the wizarding world had come to know. Her eyes were glazed over, dreamy, and unfocused. Her body radiated fury, and there was no sign of any self-control.

"W-who? " Hermione asked in a timid voice.

Bellatrix proceeded to mock her, " 'w-who'? I'll tell you who, you _scum_!" She advanced on Hermione, knuckles clutching the padlock tight.

Hermione dug her nails into her palms once again to ease her terror, she could feel the wounds re-open, the blood pool in both of her palms, and the blissful sting that took her away.

"If it hadn't of been for you, the dark lord would still have me amongst his most trusted," Hermione closed her eyes as the dangerous whisper got closer and closer, "_but now_," oh, god, she was so close, she could feel her breath on her neck, "_no. fucking. chance_." Bony fingers wrapped around her throat, albeit not tightly, and she felt suffocated as Bellatrix climbed on top of her.

"Open your eyes," Bellatrix sang in a playful tone. Hermione kept them tightly shut. The death eater leaned down closer, "I said," hair brushed across her face, "_OPEN YOUR EYES_!" The scream right in her ear sent her into a state of dissociated shock. Her eyes were wide open, her muscles rigid, and her senses alert. She was not in her body, however, or so was the feeling. She couldn't talk, move, or feel. She would have smiled triumphantly if she had the ability.

_I found my safe place, and you can't take me away from it. I'm not here. I'm not inside myself, and there's nothing you can do about it, bitch. _

She could see Bellatrix screaming at her, throttling her, and slapping her. She didn't feel or personally experience any of the horrendous encounter, it was as if she was an outside entity, watching her own misery unfold.

Suddenly, it felt as if she had been thrown into a lake of icy water. The shock of the 'cold' took her from her safe place, and she was back inside herself again, breathing heavily, eyes darting around rapidly in panic. Bellatrix had dismounted from her chest, and was sitting on the corner of her mattress, just staring at her.

"What-" Hermione looked at the thin stream of light coming from beneath the door, "time is it?" The three words spilled from her mouth weakly.

"I have no idea," Bellatrix responded in a completely despondent tone.

"But, you just came in….and it was at night…and now…." Hermione shook her head.

"I first came in," Bellatrix stated, "_six hours ago_."

"But that was..that was just now…" Hermione whispered, confused.

"No, it wasn't."

"You mean to tell me…." Hermione scrunched up her forehead, "that I was there for _hours_? It's _never_ been that long…" She didn't really care much that she was talking to herself right in front of someone else, because that someone would probably hurt her in the end, so what did it matter?

"I thought you were dead, and we can't have that. The lord needs you _alive_." The heartless attitude re-entered Bellas voice.

"You weren't in here the whole time?" Hermione queried.

Bellatrix cleared her throat. "No. Of course not. You think I would _stay_ with you? Who the fuck do you think I am, little girl?"

"I honestly have no clue," Hermione answered quietly. She knew Bellatrix was lying. The way her facial expression had changed when she asked that question…it was undeniable. The only question left for her now was _Why? _

_Why the hell would she stay with me? All she need do is check my pulse to see if I'm alive or dead. She could've beat on me for those six hours, but I have no new marks. She just stayed? She must have done something…. Something…._

An awkward silence settled over the both of them. Hermione's stomach growled. Bellatrix seized that noise as an opportunity to torment.

"I bet you're very, very hungry child. But bad girls don't _deserve t_o eat. A fat, useless, whore such as yourself may only eat when I say so." She crossed her arms over her chest. The face she was pulling indicated she was hiding something, but Hermione was too weak at that point to notice.

"Right." Hermione gave her a curt nod, and turned away from her. She laid still until she heard Bellatrix leave, and the locks click shut. She then dug her fingernails into the indents they had already made in her skin, and escaped.

_**Now that the smoke's gone, and the air is all clear.**_

_**Those who were right there got a new kind of fear. **_

_**You'd fight, and you were right, but they were just too strong.**_

_**They'd stick it in your face and let you smell what they consider wrong. **_


End file.
